Needn't be said
by C.M. Kearney
Summary: He never says anything. For hers and everyone's sake. EdWin manga based drabble.


**Disclaimer:** Me no own Fullmetal Alchemist. But didly squat can't stop me from revising it here on People of the world of cheesecake unite, synchronize, and BAKE!

**A/N:** Short break from meh FMA: RV. It's manga-based. Set before Lior at least.

**-EO-**

"Ed, why don't you ever let me in?"

He gave her a strange look. "...Huh?"

She fiddled with the screwdriver in her hand whilst the other held several lengths of wire. "You and Al never tell me anything. You come by for a fixer-upper, grit your teeth during the reattachment then leave without saying anything. Not even a proper goodbye."

A hand stroked the finely polished wrench on the worktable, admiring the shine a little before bowing her head again. "You...don't know how much you worry me...and Granny. And I wish you could let me in on your travels, even if just a bit. Because I wanna know what you've been seeing out there. While you're on a personal mission." Her head came up to meet his bright gaze this time, her azure eyes pooling a little. "And even if it's so dangerous...can't you...can't you at least confide in me?"

He sat there, and he didn't know what to say. She watched him with anxiety, wondering what was going on in his head right now. No matter how well she knew him, he was a mystery to her. Besides that, he'd changed. He wasn't the little boy she used to play with out in the fields with his little brother alongside him. He was a changed boy. No. A changed _man_. And not as innocent or as...blonde as before.

That long pause since she'd spoken put her on the balls of her toes, and she needed him to talk.

"Ed...?" she worded quietly.

He lifted his hand(his left) to push back the bangs covering his face, before getting up and mumbling something about, "going outside".

"Ed!" she called after him, wanting an answer rather than a walk-out. Why won't he tell her? What was wrong with shoving her nose a little into his private life? It wouldn't have to be so important. She just wanted a titbit of something that would comfort her, helping her think that he and his brother were doing all right. Was that so much to ask?

Frustrated, she threw the screwdriver at the wall. She hadn't meant for it to bounce back her way. And she yelped, the pain blinding her for a moment. When she could see again, the room was spinning. It was like she'd blacked out, and the next thing she knew, she was on the floor. It was the butt of the tool that hit her forehead, luckily. But her head throbbed like crazy. It hurt along with the heart-breaking knowledge that he would never open up to her, it was unbearable. She sat there on the floor, clutching her head, sobbing quietly. She was dizzy, and felt a tremendous headache coming up.

She'd never felt so stupid in her entire life. If he were to walk back in on her anytime now, she didn't think she could handle the shame of being such a crybaby over something so trivial. Maybe he just didn't want to say because he was just so private. Those brothers always did keep secrets from her since childhood, hardly ever telling her anything. As kids, it was nothing but "Great spot for fishing but don't tell Winry" or "I betcha she'd take off after us if she knew what this is".

But this was different. This was more like secrets meant to be kept from the world and never spoken of out loud in public. It would just be between the two of them. Friends inexclusive.

The door banged open to a pair of wary gold eyes, scanning the room for only a nanosecond before they landed on his injured(and tearful) mechanic sitting on the floor rubbing her head. Dazed azure eyes widened at the sudden intrusion, moving between the six other alchemists dancing in front of her.

"...Winry...!"

He didn't think. He rushed right over, crouching to her level before asking, "What happened?"

What happened?

That was _her_ line!

She was dizzy and angry, but not as ashamed as she thought she was going to be. Willing for the world to stop spinning, she bowed her head and said nothing.

"Winry?" he insisted.

No answer.

"Winry!"

"Ed, I'm not okay!" she blurted out, cross-eyed. And instantly regretted doing that. She didn't want to be selfish. She just wanted answers.

She tried to stand, only to whimper when the pain from her head returned with a vengeance. With her wrist, she pressed her forehead eyes closed. The movement didn't go unheeded by him. He noted that carefully.

"Can you walk?" he asked her. "I'll help you to your room."

Briefly, their gazes(hers swirling in the most annoying way) met, before she dropped hers to the ground, muttering, "I guess."

Why bother putting up a fight? She was too tired, not to mention dizzy, to do that now. Besides, she couldn't sit there forever waiting for her world to stop spinning. And she really needed to lie down.

Without a word, he wrapped a warm arm around her bare waist, surprising her. And on instinct, her arm snaked around his neck and over his shoulders, quietly accepting the gesture. Then, unsteadily but with purpose, he grunted and lifted them both off the ground on his own two feet. And for a moment, she was amazed.

His automail arm was there on her worktable, unfinished and disconnected. And here he was, having only two legs and his own arm to help them into her room. He'd picked himself up along with her without any help at all. She couldn't even push herself up properly without support. If she'd helped, he could've been spared the trouble. She could have given herself the benefit too.

But he'd still pushed.

And somewhere at the back of her head, somewhere where reason stood to attention, she came up with a conclusion, and a reminder of who exactly was this boy. This boy lost a father, a mother, and barely, a brother. The last few things he'd ever come to lose were his limbs. One of them the very leg he needed to hold their small family together, to protect and cherish and love. This same boy who gritted his teeth but never screamed in pain during the automail surgery and rehabilitation. He who endured more than enough pain, and seen things that she'd never want to see for herself.

This boy...who asked help from no one, or burdened them with his burdens.

How could she forget that? How could she not remember what he and his brother had been through? Everything they did...wasn't for nothing. If they'd fail, they'd come back up refusing to surrender. If one fell, the other would stop to help him up. These boys, once carefree and innocent, became jaded, resilient young men walking all over the country, treading dirt, gravel and mud to retain what they lost and want back.

Minutes later, they were in her room. He had to brush some of the tools on the floor aside with his right foot to clear a path to her bed. She tried to walk on her own, to find that her balance was way off. No way was she going to make it to her room without him there holding her close. So close she could make out the fine little gold hairs hanging at the nape of his broad neck, and count the secret freckles on his cute nose...

...She stopped before she even thought of what she was doing and flushed, hoping he didn't notice. He sat her on her bed carefully with barely a grunt, and tried to go off to look for the first aid kit. A tentative hand enclosed around his own once his back was turned. Questioningly, he looked back to see her staring at him, a new expression beneath her eyes. Like she'd just realized something. Then instantly, they melted into a gaze of apologetic concern.

"I'm sorry." she said softly. "I know what I said before, and I want to say that...I didn't mean to pry. It's your business, not mine. And I'll never do that again, I promise. I know you're okay and you know what you're doing. Y...you're really tough for a guy. I didn't realize that until now. So, I won't put pressure on you by asking you what's going on now. Someday...maybe you can tell me. But just not now. I understand."

She smiled reassuringly before dropping her gaze back down to her lap. Her head was clearing up, helping her think better, but she'd meant every word. Their hands were still entwined. He hadn't said anything. She didn't think he needed to. She knew she was forgiven. Then his hand slipped away from hers, letting it drop back down before he walked off to the bathroom to get the first aid. But she swore, that he'd squeezed her hand very gently before releasing it.

**FIN**

**-EO-**

**A/N:** I'd meant this to be a fluffy but not-that-meaningless drabble. Pardoooon. XP Um, R & R?


End file.
